Everything and Nothing
by TheElsianPrincess
Summary: Clary and Jace meet one drunken night and it's hatred at first sight. But when their parents force them together in holy matrimony, can they put aside the fire and stand as one? And when the true reasons for their rushed marriage arise, can they face something darker than either of them could have imagined? The fate of their country is in their hands...
1. The Shot Heard Round the World

_**It's back, ladies and gentlemen! Back by popular demand! New look, same great taste! Dare I say, a better taste? I think so.**_

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><p><em><strong>Soundtrack for this Chapter: <strong>_

_**It's Time, by Imagine Dragons (Apartment Scene)**_

_**Life is a Highway, Rascal Flatts (Apartment Scene)**_

_**Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites, Skrillex (Club Scene)**_

_**Black Widow, Iggy Azalea (Club Scene)**_

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><p>Clary sighed in mild aggravation as her phone rang for the fourth time, ripping her already divided attention from her suitcase and her sketches. She let go of the suitcase zipper and took the pencil from her mouth, tossing the drawing utensil on her nightstand and picking the phone up. "Yes, Mom?" she answered irritably.<p>

"Just wanted to check to see how you were doing," chirped the falsely bright voice at the other end of the phone. "Have you left yet?"

Clary rolled her eyes and picked her pencil back up, twirling it between her fingers as she padded across her bedroom to her desk. "Not since the last time you called…half an hour ago."

"Sorry," Jocelyn Fray said, her voice completely unapologetic. "I'm a concerned mother. What's taking you so long?"

Clary dropped the pencil into its case and managed to zip the case up with one hand. "I can't shut my suitcase…and anyway, Sebastian isn't here yet. He had to do something at school or something, so he's running a bit late…" She dropped the case into her bright green backpack and, with her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, pulled the drawstrings of the bag together. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wait up, okay? I think Seb wants to do something for my birthday."

There was a pause at the other end of the line that put Clary on edge. Her mom didn't like it when she went out with Sebastian, especially not when she was supposed to be coming home. In fact, she didn't think her mom liked Sebastian at all. When Clary had first told her mother that she and Sebastian had started dating, six years ago, Jocelyn had pursed her lips and asked her 'why.' Her stepfather, Luke, had looked nervous, like he'd wanted to say something…but was afraid to.

It was not the reaction she'd been expecting. She'd expected her mom to be happy for her, and she'd certainly expected a different reaction from Luke. Luke was always her number one fan, her biggest supporter. He always took her side, unless it was about something dangerous. His decline of support for her in her relationship with Sebastian had made her incredibly upset.

Eventually, though, her parents had simply accepted that Sebastian was going to be around for a while, and they'd stopped pestering her about him. They never invited him over though—it was always Clary who had to ask if she could bring him around the house, for a meal or a board game or something. And when he was over, Jocelyn rarely spoke to him, and Clary could tell the friendliness Luke offered was only surface level.

Every time she asked her parents why they didn't like Sebastian, she was always met with a 'It's not that we don't like him, Clary…It's just that we don't think he's right for you.'

"Mom," Clary prompted.

"What?"

"Did you hear me?"

A sigh. "Yes, Clary, I heard you. I'd really rather you didn't. It's dangerous in the city, late at night. I don't want you two walking around alone."

Clary ran her hand through her unruly red curls and let herself fall back on her bed, between her suitcase and her backpack. Her ceiling was peppered with glow in the dark star stickers that she'd managed to peel from her ceiling back home and bring with her to college. She let her eyes wander from star to star as she talked, twirling the drawstring of her backpack around her finger. "Mom, we're taking a cab. We aren't going to be doing any walking. And besides, Seb is perfectly capable of taking care of both himself and me. We'll be fine."

Clary heard the front door to the apartment slam. Something—a few things—dropped to the ground and a female voice spat out a long string of colorful, unladylike words.

"I know, Clary, but I—"

"I gotta go, Mom. Izzy's here. I'll call you when I leave."

Ignoring her mother's protests, Clary punched the bright red 'End Call' button and shoved the sleek phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She heaved herself back off her bed and ventured into the eclectically decorated living room of the apartment she shared with dark-haired beauty Isabelle Lightwood and vivacious Maia Roberts. "Iz?" she called out.

She was met with another string of curses, as the taller girl tried to pick up the various shopping bags she'd dropped in the entryway back up off the floor. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail that somehow looked like something out of a magazine, and her large, white sunglasses were slowly falling of their perch on her nose.

Clary laughed a little bit and rushed to help her friend pick the shopping bags off the floor. "I think you need a lesson in conservation," she said, slinging a pink Victoria's Secret bag and a papery, black Brandy Melville bag over her elbow. "You may have the money to shop all you want, but you don't have enough arms to carry the bags. It's either that, or become an octopus."

Isabelle straightened up and grinned at her, shaking the hair out of her eyes and pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. "That's why I need a boyfriend," she said. "So he can carry my bags for me."

Clary laughed again and started walking toward Isabelle's bedroom, which adjoined hers with a Jack and Jill style bathroom. The other girl's bedroom was hot pink and covered in glitter, with piles of makeup and clothes everywhere you tried to step. "That's not a boyfriend," she commented, picking her way around a large pile of old foundation Isabelle had probably meant to throw out three weeks ago. "That's a personal assistant."

"Isn't that what boyfriends are?" Isabelle asked, glancing at herself in the mirror that rested against her armoire.

"Speaking of," Isabelle added, as she and Clary dumped the bags on the dark haired girl's disaster of a bed. "Where's yours? Wasn't he supposed to be here, like, half an hour ago?"

Clary pushed an escaped curl out of her eyes and straightened her sweatshirt. "He got held up by something at school. He'll be here in about ten minutes…which is why I need your help."

Isabelle looked from her shopping bags to her friend, raising an eyebrow. "I'm glad you asked. Jeans and a sweatshirt is not the outfit you want to greet the love of your life in."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Not with my _outfit, _I meant with my _suitcase_."

"Oh," Isabelle said, following Clary to her room. "Well, your outfit needs help, too. I can hear the cries of your jeans, begging me to pair them with something a little more tasteful…like a chiffon blouse or something."

"See?" Clary said, pointing at the suitcase, which was about to burst. "I need help shutting it."

Isabelle cut a glance at Clary and walked up to the suitcase, leaned on top of it, and had it zipped shut in under fifteen seconds. "You're too short," she commented, stepping back from the bed. "It's all about leverage. Maybe if you'd put it on a chair or something—"

The girls were interrupted by a loud knock at the front door.

Isabelle made a noise of aggravation, throwing her hands up in the air. "Dammit. I was going to make you at least put on some mascara and lip gloss. You look like a boy in that getup."

Clary ignored her roommate and bounced to the entryway, pulling the door open for her boyfriend of six years, Sebastian Verlac.

She grinned when she saw him. He stood tall, his raven hair combed carefully to the side, his equally black eyes dark and wide, drinking the sight of her in. One arm was held behind his back, the other shoved in the pocket of his jeans. His navy blue button up shirt was slightly wrinkled, likely because he didn't know how to iron his own clothing. His smile matched hers, and when he brought his hand out from behind his back, he held a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers. "Happy Birthday," he said softly.

Clary took the flowers happily and stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you!"

He held his hand out to her. "You ready to go?"

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><p>Clary pulled Isabelle's dress down farther, fingering nervously at the lace hem, wondering how Isabelle managed to walk around dressed like this all the time without wanting to grab a blanket and wrap it around herself like a cocoon. Her ears were ringing as incredibly loud music poured from the enormous speakers of the club into her brain, and her heart beat in wild rhythm. She could feel sweat dripping down her cheeks, down her back, and she could feel Sebastian's sweat, too. She, oddly, was not disgusted by it.<p>

They danced against each other, an odd looking couple, moving gracelessly to the music and pressing too close. Clary lived for moments like these—moments when she could immerse herself in something physical, something stress-free. She didn't have to think about moving to the music—her body did it for her. She didn't have to work to listen to the beat. All she had to do was drink in the sights and the sounds and the smells. All she had to do was smile in delight as the club lights flashed yellow, blue, pink, and green. All she had to do was hum low in her throat to the nearly unintelligible words emanating from the speakers. All she had to do was press up against her boyfriend and she felt safe and secure and very nearly carefree.

Sebastian slid his hands down Clary's arms and she shivered.

"Don't worry about your dress!" he practically shouted into her ear. "You look great!"

Clary rolled her eyes but let go of the hem of her dress. She'd worn it for him, after all. Most of the things she wore, she wore for him. To appease him. To please him. To…excite him. Maybe, finally, she'd get lucky and he'd man up enough to have—

"I'm going to go get us some drinks okay?" Sebastian yelled, pulling Clary out of her thoughts. "I'll be right back!"

Clary nodded and waved him away.

She needed to use the restroom anyway.

Clary wobbled on her tall heels, pushing through the thick, tangled mess of bodies that jumped up and down to the music in tandem toward the back of the club. For someone so small in stature, she prided herself on knowing how to move through a crowd. New York was in her blood…and her elbows. Elbows were a handy thing when it came to pushing through a mess of people.

Once she escaped the pack of dancers, she sucked in a lungful of relatively fresh air. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol and sweat pervaded her nostrils, but she welcomed it, as she welcomed the cool draft of early fall air that swept into the building from a door that was propped open in the back. Near the door, she saw a dimly lit sign that read 'Restrooms', and sighed in relief.

Just before she entered the restroom, she turned to make sure Sebastian wasn't wondering where she was. He wasn't. He'd just made it to the bar and was waiting his turn to speak to the bartender. If she hurried, she could make it right back to where they were and he wouldn't even notice she'd left.

She pushed open the door to the girls' restroom—

And froze in surprise.

None of the stalls were occupied. None of them.

But the sink was.

A boy and a girl—no, a man and a woman—were pressed tightly against each other, the woman seated on the sink, her long, manicured fingers wrapped tightly in the man's curling, blond hair. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her already short skirt hitched up passed her upper thighs, and her neck was arched back. The man was…well, he was…

Clary made a noise of disgust, but as the door slammed shut behind her, she found she couldn't move. She was rooted to the spot, whether by her own shocked brain, or by something else she didn't know. All she knew was that she was mortified, disgusted, and wanted nothing more than to leave.

The couple froze and turned to look at her, neither of them moving from their positions, though the woman turned bright red.

"Do you mind, little girl?" the man said, his golden eyes locked lazily on Clary.

She spluttered and suddenly figured out how to move her feet, backing away toward the door. "Do_ I_ mind?!" Her voice was almost unidentifiable to her own ears, shrill and high pitched. "Do _you _mind? How the hell am I supposed to go to the bathroom when you and…and…_faerie _girl over here are going at it like rabbits on the sink? Do you realize this is a _public _bathroom?"

The woman made a noise that sounded too much like a growl to Clary and pushed the man away from her, revealing way more skin than Clary would have liked to see. "That's the last time, Jace," the woman said, straightening out her skirt and stomping toward the door. "Your damn little escapades always turn into exhibitionist shows. Next time you have sex with a girl, have the decency to at least rent a hotel room, if you won't invite her back to your place. Or use a _stall _instead of the damn _sink!_"

The woman stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and Clary reflexively looked at Jace, who hadn't bothered to fix his pants. She clapped her hands over her eyes and made a noise of frustration.

"I think I need to wash my brain out…" Clary said, peeking out from behind her fingers as Jace began to wash his hands. "Can you make yourself decent, please, so I can use the restroom?"

"I'm always decent," Jace said calmly, though Clary could detect a note of anger in his voice.

What right did _he _have to be angry? He was the one having sex in the girls' bathroom! If he'd picked the men's room and a guy had walked in on them, the guy probably wouldn't have thought twice. "Is your…Is it…" Clary stuttered. "Are your pants zipped up?"

"I don't see how it matters anymore," Jace said. "Your eyes can't 'burn' any more than they already have." There was a loud zipping noise. "This is incredibly uncomfortable," he remarked, his words beginning to sound slurred. "You interrupted a very important part of my life, and now I'm stuck like this."

Clary dropped her hands from her eyes and glared daggers at Jace. "Maybe if you'd gone home, there wouldn't be anyone to interrupt you."

Jace leaned back against the sink and folded his arms against his grey t-shirt, leveling his gaze at her. "And maybe if you'd just ignored us and done your business, we wouldn't be having this conversation. As it is, you have deprived me of the only enjoyable thing about this whole damn day, and now you're arguing with me."

Clary shook her head. "Can you just get out so I can go to the bathroom?"

Jace seemed to ponder the idea for a moment. "No. I don't think I will. You didn't give me privacy, so I don't think I'm going to give you privacy. My jeans are making me uncomfortable, so I'll offer you the same sense of discomfort. I'll stay here while you use the restroom, little girl."

Clary frowned. "My name is not 'little girl.'"

Jace raised his eyebrows, raking his eyes up and down her body in a way that sent a shiver down her spine and made her, yet again, want to grab a blanket and wrap it around her body. "Well, you're little…in more ways than one, I might add…and you're a girl, though you're not a very pretty girl. So I say my name still stands."

With a huff of anger, Clary spun on her heel and marched out of the bathroom. The club was getting more and more crowded the later it got, and Clary had to push past several couples and even more mobs of dancers to get to her boyfriend, who was standing at the bar with a more than worried expression. He turned to her in surprise, holding one completely empty glass in one hand, and a half full glass of beer in the other hand.

"Clary!" he exclaimed, as she took the glass from his hand and drained the beer from it. "Where did you go? What happened?"

Clary slammed the glass back down on the bar harder than she intended, but she didn't care. If it broke, at this point, she'd probably take one of the shards of glass and try to shove it down the Golden Asshole's pants. Then she'd see how much pain he was in.

"Clary?"

She looked up at Sebastian. "Can we go home?" she asked. "I know it's still kind of early, but…I want to go home."

Sebastian wrapped his hands around Clary's shoulders and turned her gently to face him. "Are you okay?"

"Just some asshole in the bathroom," she muttered, looking away from Sebastian. "There were these two idiots having sex in the bathroom, and the guy…well, let's just say he was more than a little upset with me for interrupting."

Before Clary could protest, Sebastian's hands had slipped from her shoulders and he was halfway to the bathroom. Clary called after him and began to push through the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest and the music pounding in her ears.

When Clary made it to the dimly lit hallway, Jace had just exited the girls' bathroom, now wearing a leather jacket and typing something into his cellphone with a furrowed brow, his oddly golden eyes more alert than they had been when she'd been conversing—or, fighting, rather—with him.

It took Sebastian less than a second to figure out that he was the 'asshole' who had sex in the girls' bathroom, and only five more seconds to knock the cellphone out of Jace's hands.

Clary caught up to Sebastian in time to hear him say "Are you the asshole keeping other people from using a public facility because you can't keep it in your pants?"

Jace looked from his broken cellphone to Sebastian, his eyes heavy with laziness once again. Clary wondered, briefly, at his ability to change his facial expressions so quickly and so smoothly.

"Let me guess," Jace drawled, dragging his eyes from Sebastian's angry, hulking form to Clary's more timid one and back to Sebastian again. "You're Pippi Longstocking's girlfriend?" Jace coughed. "Excuse me…boyfriend?"

Sebastian's arm twitched and that's all it took for Clary to duck. His fist swung out and connected with Jace's jaw inhumanly fast, sending Jace reeling back into the wall.

Clary watched with wide eyes as Jace regained his balance, looking a little dazed, but…was he _laughing_?

"Come on," Jace said, opening his arms out wide. "Is that all you've got? A little tap to the chin? I probably won't even bruise."

_He's wrong about that,_ Clary observed silently, watching the already darkening area on his jaw bone.

If Jace's intent was to get Sebastian to swing again, it worked. Sebastian swung, but Jace was faster. He blocked Sebastian's punch by grabbing the other boy's wrist and wrenching it around his back. Sebastian cried out in pain and swung his other fist toward Jace's eye, but Jace caught that one too, yanking it back to join its counterpart.

Clary couldn't take it anymore. "Stop!" she yelled, careful not to get in between them. "Just stop!"

Jace didn't take his eyes off Sebastian, but he let go of the boy's wrists. Sebastian stood up straight, wincing and rubbing at his wrists, glaring angrily at Jace.

Jace fixed his eyes on Clary, and she swore she felt her blood freeze in her veins. "Next time you have an issue with me," Jace said in a low voice, "Stand up for yourself. Don't hide behind your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend, like a bitch."

He spat on the ground, picked up his broken cellphone, and disappeared into the alleyway beyond the open door.

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><p><em><strong>Yeah. That's where I'm ending the chapter. Dang, Jace! Harsh!<strong>_

_**So! What do you think?**_

_**New readers, does this interest you?**_

_**And to those of you who have already read twenty something chapters of this story, back when part of it was already published, do you like this better? Did you like the other version better? Or do you like them equally? Sound off in the reviews!**_

_**Love You All! Until Next Monday ;)**_


	2. The Start of the Revolution

_**To Clarify: The reason this is a rewrite is because I'm an impulsive little poophead. Yes, I could just repost the original. There was nothing wrong with the original. Actually, I can't just repost it, or I would. I kind of deleted it off my laptop, so there's that. I'm rewriting it though! And I'm going to do my absolute darndest to update every week!**_

_**By the way, the chapter soundtracks, as of so far, have nothing to do with the scenes themselves. I'm trying to find a tune and a beat that fits the vibe of the scene. So, right now, don't listen to the words. I'll let you know when the words have something to do with the scene :) Enjoy!**_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Soundtrack:<strong>_

_**Underdog, Imagine Dragons (Waking Up in the Morning Scene)**_

_**Break Free, Ariana Grande (Coffee Shop)**_

_**Hit Em Up Style, Low Key [BOCA 2011] (End Scene)**_

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><p>Clary groaned in irritation as she finally registered the midmorning sunlight pushing through her blinds and poking at her eyelids, insisting she wake up and start the uneventful day ahead of her. She flipped over onto her stomach, away from the window, and burrowed beneath her comforter, trying to ignore the fact that she suddenly felt hot. The heat from the blanket and the window began to coax the sweat from her pores, and with another groan of frustration, she kicked the blankets off and stumbled grumpily out of bed and into the hallway outside of her room.<p>

"Morning, Clare!"

Clary squinted tiredly at her step-father, Luke. He held a mug of coffee in his hands and was dressed and ready for the day, smiling as always. She grunted an unintelligible, grumpy 'Good morning', but when he opened his arms for a hug, she shuffled to him willingly. He chuckled and pulled her into a tight side hug, kissing the top of her hair affectionately.

"Still not a morning person?"

Clary made another tired noise and waved him away, shuffling to the stairs and laying her head on the banister, trying to see how far down the railing her upper body could slide before her feet were forced to follow or fall. Luke walked slowly down the steps beside her.

"Do I have to appear in public today?" Clary asked, her voice hoarse.

Luke laughed again. "Only for a little bit. Some old friends of mine are coming over for dinner tonight. I haven't seen them in a very long time, and we figured tonight was as good as any to catch up."

Clary stopped sliding down the stairs to squint at her stepfather again. "Can I just…hide in the bathtub and eat macaroni and cheese?"

Luke smiled and took her arm, peeling her off the banister and walking her down the rest of the stairs. "They have a son who's about your age. If you stay in the bathroom all night, he'll be bored."

Clary made a face. "It's not my choice to host people in this house. I shouldn't have to entertain them."

"Well, your mother and I are asking you, politely, to do so."

Clary threw her arm over her face, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight pouring in through the large, bay windows near the back of the house. "And what if I just…disappear?"

"Then we'll all go out and find you together, and find some way of embarrassing you," Jocelyn said, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping a cereal bowl clean.

Clary wrinkled her nose at her mother. "Morning to you, too, Mom."

Jocelyn smiled warmly. "Good morning, honey. You have a visitor."

Clary frowned at her mom. It couldn't be Sebastian. Sebastian was already in New Jersey, at his parents' house. He'd stayed at her house long enough to make sure all her bags were in her room and she was safe inside, before he'd driven the rest of the way to Bridgewater. She walked into the kitchen, and standing there at the counter, picking all the seeds out of an orange, was her childhood best friend.

The rest of Clary's brain and body snapped awake instantaneously. "Simon!" she squealed, running and throwing herself at him. "Oh my gosh, Simon!"

Simon laughed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Hey to you too, Clary. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Clary laughed and pulled back to look up at him. "Yeah, _last Christmas_. I saw you last Christmas."

Simon smiled and threw one arm around her shoulders, leaning on her and using his free hand to continue picking at his orange. "Good thing you decided to finish school over the summer. Don't know what I would've done if I'd've had to wait another…four months to see you."

Clary reached over and stole one of his orange slices. "Don't get too excited," she remarked around a mouthful of fruit. Her hand flew to her mouth as a little bit of orange juice escaped her lips. She swallowed. "My graduation ceremony isn't until the spring. Technically, I'm taking a 'gap year.' Between the end of my senior year and my graduation."

"Now that your little reunion's over," Jocelyn said, walking back into the kitchen with the clean cereal bowl. "Could you two run around the corner and grab some bao buns and coffee?"

Clary furrowed her brow, watching her mother put the cereal bowl back in the cupboard. "Didn't you already have breakfast?"

"Second breakfast," Simon said, pulling his sneakers back on, "is just as important as first breakfast."

"Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?"

"Yes. Yes it was."

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><p><em>Bao and Beans <em>was an odd little shop just a couple blocks away from Clary's Brooklyn townhouse that, true to its name, sold bao buns and coffee. A perfect combination for a perfect morning, in Clary's opinion.

Simon pushed the shop door open, grinning at his friend. "Whoever came up with this idea was a genius," he said. "Bao buns and coffee. Not really from the same country, but hey. Who cares? The taste is all that matters."

Clary smiled and walked into the shop.

It was one of the smallest buildings on the block. There were only two tables with two chairs each, a tiny little loveseat, and then the rest of the shop was taken up by the counter and the kitchen behind it. The walls had been splashed with bright red, and pinwheel like white flowers, with stars in the middle of their petals, stood out in contrast to the red.

"Well, isn't _this _a surprise."

Clary froze.

"If it isn't Maggie and the…not so ferocious Beast."

Clary turned, and sure enough, sprawled out on the couch, was the blond guy from the bar the night before. James, or something.

No, not James.

Jace.

He sat up and studied her, his golden eyes darting quickly from her to Simon, who had begun to order at the counter, and back to her again. "You know, you have many flaws, but I didn't peg you as a cheater."

Clary glared at him. "I'm not cheating. Simon is my—"

"Pet rat?"

"—best friend."

"Ah. Sad, lonely little girl. With only a pet rat to call her best friend."

Clary's hands curled into fists. "My name is _not _'little girl.'"

Jace shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "My argument still stands. You're little, and you're a girl. Ergo, you are a little girl."

Clary returned his shrug, trying to come off as relaxed. Unfortunately, her hands wouldn't uncurl themselves. "Fine. I guess I'll start calling you Zeus."

Jace's lips tugged up into a smirk. "Why? Because I'm stunningly—or should I say, _electrifyingly_—attractive?"

Clary glared at him. "No. Because you've probably inseminated over half of New York."

Jace's smirk didn't disappear, but it grew more sour than it had been before Clary's statement. He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, opening his mouth to retort, but it was Simon who spoke next, having returned from the counter with a white paper bag and a drink carrier holding four coffees.

"Who inseminated half of New York?" he asked, handing Clary the drink carrier.

"No one important," Clary said irritably, turning away from Jace and dragging a slightly bewildered Simon behind her as she walked toward the door.

And Jace laughed.

That asshole _actually laughed._

Her shoulders tensing in anger, she whirled around, grabbed one of the coffee cups from the carrier and hurled its contents all over Jace, drenching him in steaming hot coffee.

Jace yelped in surprise and pain and jumped off the couch, wiping his face and his pristine white shirt, now drenched in coffee, wincing as his fingers brushed the bright purple bruise on his jawline. He grit his teeth and glared at Clary, and for a moment, she was frozen where she stood. The fire and the hatred in his eyes was enough to terrify her…but she wasn't going to let him know that.

"That was for calling me a bitch last night, you _asshole._" She pivoted on her heel and marched out the door of the shop.

"Who was that?" Simon asked, jogging to catch up with his friend after she blew past him.

"No one important," Clary repeated. She grabbed one of the coffee cups without looking and began to drink it. Immediately after she swallowed, she made a face and looked at the cup. "What is this?"

Simon shot her a look of annoyance and took the cup from her. "That one's _mine_."

"Well, which one's mine?"

"The one the color of your soul," Simon said, pointing to a cup that had _Black _scribbled on the side of it.

Clary twisted it out of the cup carrier and took a sip. "My soul is not black," she muttered. She could feel the heat of the coffee spreading through her chest and her stomach, and it calmed her nerves. Maybe she'd overreacted to Jace. Maybe he'd just been trying to tease her and she'd taken it too far.

She made a mental note not to appear in public in the morning until she had coffee in her hands.

Simon shrugged. "You're the one who said it first. When we were 16, remember? We were at Java Jones, watching Eric read his god-awful poetry, and you asked for your coffee 'Black. Like my soul.'"

Clary took another sip and smiled a little bit, hitting the button for the crosswalk with her elbow. "You know what _I _remember about that night?"

Simon paled a little bit. "I know _exactly _what you remember about that night, and under no circumstances should that part of that night ever be discussed. Ever."

Clary smirked. "For future reference," she said, turning around the block so she could see her townhouse. "Don't ever confess your undying love for a girl in a _coffee shop._"

Simon glared at her. "Did you not just hear what I said? Do you have coffee in your ears?"

"Just because you tell me not to discuss it doesn't mean I'm going to listen to you." She grinned at him, pushing her drink back into the carrier and fishing in the back pocket of her jeans for her house keys. "Come on, Si, it was six years ago. That's over half a decade! We tried to date, it didn't work, and we both moved on." She pushed open the door of her house. "Why can't we laugh at it?"

Simon rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him, trailing after her as they ascended the steps to the part of the building where Clary and her parents resided. The other half of the building—the bottom house—was inhabited by a woman who called herself 'Madame Dorothea' and sold palm readings from her front parlor.

"My way of laughing at it is me pretending it never happened. So…let's just pretend it never happened." He stepped inside the house and shut the door behind him, ignoring Clary's amused grin.

Clary and Simon walked into the kitchen and set the bag and drink carrier on the granite countertop, where Luke and Jocelyn had been playing a game of Scrabble. Clary rolled her eyes. "You guys still have that tradition going on?"

Jocelyn smiled and placed one of her wooden letter blocks in its square triumphantly before looking up at her daughter. "Of course. Just because you leave the house doesn't mean our lives are suddenly dull and uneventful."

Luke sighed and scribbled something down on the score sheet, pursing his lips and looking at his letters with a dismal expression. "On the contrary…" he said, picking up an A and an E and placing them strategically on the board. "Our lives are much more eventful with you gone."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Guess that means you don't need bao buns. Bao buns are only for those of us with pitifully boring, horrifyingly expensive lives. They spice it up a little."

Simon smiled and leaned over Clary to take his own bun out of the white paper bag. "Does this mean you and I each get two?"

"No," Jocelyn interjected, plucking the second bao bun out of her daughter's hand right as she was about to bite into it. "Because if you do, you won't get any baked macaroni and cheese tonight."

Clary nearly dropped her bun on the counter. "You're making mac and cheese for dinner?"

Jocelyn smiled serenely and took a sip of coffee. She made a face and looked at the cup. "Why are there only three cups?"

Clary flushed. "Um…Some idiot at the café wasn't watching where he was going…ran right into me…I spilled your coffee all over him. You can have mine," she said, sliding her cup towards her mother.

Jocelyn shook her head and pushed it back to her daughter. "I don't need it. I'll just make a few cups later tonight, for dessert or something."

"What's the occasion, might I ask?" Clary asked, narrowing her eyes at her mother. Jocelyn rarely ever put as much time as it took to bake that macaroni and cheese into any other dinner, unless people were coming over.

Luke slid his own food across the counter so he could stand next to Jocelyn. "Just some old college friends," he said nonchalantly, inspecting the pork in his bao bun. "Remember? I told you about it this morning. You may not remember," he added, in response to Clary's blank look. "I don't think you were fully conscious...Nobody to really get fancied up for. But you came home, and since we're having guests, your mother and I thought it would be a nice occasion to cook one of your favorite meals."

Clary shrugged and took a drink of coffee. "Can Simon stay over for dinner?"

Jocelyn and Luke froze and looked at each other, but before they could reply to Clary, Simon interjected.

"Um, actually," he said, nudging Clary with his elbow. "My mom wants me home. Rebecca's coming home from studying abroad on Monday, and she wants me to help her clean the house. And give Yossarian a bath…" He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Clary didn't hear him though. She was too busy watching her mother, who had gone a couple shades paler than she usually was. Clary frowned and an awkward silence ensued.

Luke took a deep breath and cleared the Scrabble board. "Who's up for another round of Scrabble?"

Clary frowned in the mirror at the dress her mother had practically forced her to wear. She didn't understand why she had to dress up so nicely, if they were just college friends of her mother and stepfather's. It probably meant that they were friends with her biological father, however. Which also meant that there was a possibility they were rich and snobby.

And there was a possibility that this dinner wasn't a casual visit, but the catalyst in a business transaction.

* * *

><p>Clary blew a stray curl out of her eyes. The emerald green, A-line dress was made of silk and chiffon, and it hugged her practically nonexistent curves, making her look even bonier than usual. Her pale limbs were dotted with freckles, as were her cheekbones. She bit her lip and managed to twist her hair up into a more becoming knot, letting a few curls hang loose around her face.<p>

She'd just slipped the soft green slippers on her feet when her mother called from downstairs.

"Honey, our guests have arrived!"

With a roll of her eyes and no care for decorum, Clary trudged down the stairs, pulling self-consciously at the hem line of her dress. It was annoyingly short, and Clary doubted that anyone was in the mood to see the Care Bears dotting her threadbare old panties.

She really needed to do her laundry.

Clary heard her parents open the front door, and the usual exclamations and greetings that accompanied a dinner party ensued. Four voices. All adult. She sighed and walked toward the entryway of the house.

"I was just telling my daughter how long it's been since we've seen you," Jocelyn said, walking into the living room where Clary was standing.

A beautiful blond woman practically waltzed into the room, her smile wide and bright. "Oh, I know. I was just telling my son the same thing."

Clary raised her eyebrows. A son?

Luke stepped into the living room, trailing two people behind him—men, by the looks of it, but Clary couldn't see their faces.

Luke smiled at Clary. "Ah, Clarissa! May I introduce the Herondales?" He gestured to the woman. "This is Celine." He gestured to the man standing directly behind him. "This is Stephen…"

Stephen and Luke stepped aside to reveal the third Herondale.

Clary's blood turned to ice in her veins, her eyes widening in surprise.

"And this is Jace."

_Purple bruise and all, _Clary thought. The ice in her veins turned to fire, boiling and coursing through her body. Her chest felt like it had lit aflame.

Clary's expression was mirrored in Jace's golden eyes.

He smiled brightly. "It's nice to meet you," he said smoothly, but she could see the contempt flickering in his irises.

Clary returned his smile, hers sweet with a sickening poison. "I can't say the same for you, asshole."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mwahaha. <strong>_

_**That was a fun chapter.**_

_**REMEMBER TO LEAVE A REVIEW! **_


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